Hearken, hearken, beautiful Kānāi

Dūtika:
Hearken, hearken, beautiful Kānāi:
I give the maiden Rādhā to your care,
A lotus-damsel, softly-wrought,
And thirstier bee than you.

The feast of honey is prepared,--
Only forget the Archer's cruelty,
Touching her bosom gently
As an olifant a lily.

Making excuse to count her necklace pearls,
Your hands may lift the burden of her breasts:
She does not understand the ways of love,
But now consents, and now refuses.

The shirīsh-flower is not more delicate than she, therefore
Inure her to the Archer's way by little steps,--
The poet Vidyāpati lays down
This prayer of a messenger upon your feet.